


The Bottom of the World

by MVKramer



Category: Original Work
Genre: Child Abuse, Clairvoyance, Cults, F/M, Fantasy, Final Battle, Green South Pole, Human Sacrifice, school of magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:16:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28881570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MVKramer/pseuds/MVKramer
Summary: In a world with a green South Pole, a young girl struggles with her magic abilities. Meanwhile, the nations of the Southern Hemisphere band together to battle a hostile Northern power.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character





	1. Prologue

When the world was old but mankind was young, it came to pass that Naru, Lord of Winter, woke from his million-year sleep in the Naroqa, the glacier on top of Mount Qalau, the Mountain of ice. And he broke the Naroqa asunder and strode down from Mount Qalau onto Ta Rana, the continent at the bottom of the world, and he towered higher than Mount Qalau and the other mountains. White was his raiment and white his face, and his eyes glittered like shards of ice. Killing frost was in his breath and bitter winds in his cloak, and where he stepped, ice spread, and where his glance fell, all became cold and dark. And the winter brought by Naru lasted for two thousand years, and glaciers crawled over the Earth, and the oceans were frozen solid, and beast and bird and man starved and suffered.

Thus, the gods of the Earth gathered on Ta Rana to make war upon Naru. There were the eight Little Gods of the southern islands. There were gods of the sea and gods of the other lands and gods of fire, gods of field and forest, beast and bird. There was the Hidden God of the North who appeared as a pillar of flame. And the gods brought light and warmth with them. They came with fire to light their way, and their spears and swords shone in the firelight. And where the gods passed, ice melted, and warmth returned. Where the gods passed, beast and bird and man grew strong again and leaped for joy, and many followed in the gods’ train.

But facing the army of the gods was the army of Naru, Lord of Winter. He came with snow to smother the fire and put out the light, and he bore a mace of hard, glistening ice. With a sweep of his hand, blizzards raged across the land and buried the army of the gods with snow. And the Tanoti fought for him, creatures of the glaciers who rode upon terror birds and fed upon living flesh.

All would have been lost that night, had it not been for the men. For the men were young and strong and fearless, the newest children of the gods, made in the gods’ image, and they fought fiercely. Naru and his Tanoti slew great numbers of them, but there were always more of them. Men went to their deaths bravely, for they said, “Better to be slain in battle than to die of cold and want.”

Thus, because of their numbers and their courage, men turned the tide of the battle in the gods’ favor. And the gods were victorious, and the Tanoti and terror birds were slain, and the two-thousand-year winter ended, and the snow and ice melted. And the gods brought Naru back to Mount Qalau and thrust him back into the Naroqa, there to remain. But to the men, the gods gave a reward. The gods said, “Behold, the men are like to us in form and spirit and have aided us in vanquishing Naru. As a reward, we shall give them a part of our powers.”

Thus, the men could use magic. And they increased and multiplied and became mighty, and the world was filled with them. They farmed and built cities and practiced magic on every continent, in both hemispheres. They worshiped the gods, and the gods repaid them with lives of bliss and abundance. And men and the gods had peace and would have peace for thousands of years.

Until Naru should wake again.


	2. Ruha

The first time Ruha almost died, she was seven years old, and it was spring.

The children rushed outside into the fresh air and light, laughing with the joy of freedom. The sun was just above the horizon, and its rays dazzled their eyes almost to tears at first, but they blinked them away and kept running. The ground was slushy and soggy; water splashed around their boots and up onto their legs. The snow was almost gone, leaving puddles, thick mud, and grass dry as straw. Here and there in shady places, soft piles of snow still lingered.

In another month, all the snow would melt, water from the distant White Mountains would run down from their glaciers, and the spring floods would begin. But for now, the children ran and shouted outside, with the bracing wind biting their brown cheeks and the sun causing tears to stream from their green eyes.

Niqu, Ruha’s half-brother, led the way. At twelve years old, he was the oldest and the tallest, and his long legs seemed to eat up the ground. Ten-year-old Rangu, her next brother, could almost keep up with him. Ruha lagged behind, as usual. She was always the youngest, always the slowest, and the only girl. It wasn’t fair.

“Wait for me!” she protested, stumbling over a branch in her path. She kept her eyes on Rangu’s seal fur hood as she tried to run faster. Just ahead, Niqu vaulted over a fallen beech log, and Rangu scrambled after him. Ruha tried to climb over the log the way Rangu did, but her legs weren’t long enough. She growled in frustration; Niqu and Rangu were leaving her behind. “Wait for me!” she said again.

Rangu sighed, and trotted back to her, holding out his hand. “Come on; I’ll help you over.”

Ruha grabbed his hand and let him help her over the log. “Thanks,” she said, squeezing his hand.

“Come on, you slowpokes!” Niqu called. “Father says there’s an emu nest under the twisted beech. We can get some eggs for supper today.”

“Just wait a bit,” said Rangu. “Let me and Ruha catch up.”

Niqu sighed and stood still. “Fine. But hurry!”

Rangu and Ruha, still holding hands, caught up to Niqu quickly. They began to run again, and soon Ruha was falling behind, as before. She tried to run faster, pushing her sore legs further, her eyes on Niqu and Rangu.

Then she fell. There was no ground under her feet, her stomach lurched, she shrieked, and she landed painfully hard on her bottom. Dizzily, she shook her head, her heart thumping in her ears, and as her eyes began to refocus, she saw that she was in the dark. She rose to her feet, rubbing her sore bottom, squinting through the darkness, but she could barely see anything. The only light came from a small circle, high above her head. She must have fallen in a dry well. Her heart began to beat faster and her breathing quickened. _Kamati_ , crawling lizard-like creatures that served the Lord of Winter, lived underground, and they ate people. What if there were _kamati_ here?

“Help!” she screamed, staring up at the circle of light far above her. “Niqu, Rangu, help!” There was no answer but echoes. They weren’t coming; they’d gone away and left her here. And she was down in the dark, with the _kamati_.

Ruha screamed. Tears streamed from her eyes, her breaths came short and heavy, and she kept screaming. Nobody was coming to save her; her brothers and parents had abandoned her. A rushing sound filled her ears, and the darkness was pressing closer and closer. Was that the scratching of a _kamati_? Ruha screamed and sobbed until she had no more breath, until the blackness swallowed her up, and there was nothing.

* * *

Ruha woke up with her head throbbing. Her vision was blurry, but she could see a red glow. Gradually, she realized the red light was the fire on the hearth, back home. Mama was sitting next to her pile of furs, and she placed a cool, rough hand on Ruha’s forehead.

“How do you feel?” Mama said softly.

Tears rolled down Ruha’s cheeks, but not from fear this time. She was safe now, and she had been rescued, and the _kamati_ hadn’t eaten her. For some reason, she couldn’t say any of this; she could only keep crying. She wanted to reach up and hug her mother, but she was bundled up too tightly under the furs.

“Shh, now,” her mother whispered, stroking her forehead. “It’s all right. You’re safe now.”

“H-how…how’d you find me?” Ruha croaked. Her throat hurt.

“Niqu and Rangu came and told Papa,” Mama told her. “Papa and the other men pulled you out.”

“You didn’t leave me,” Ruha whispered. Her eyelids fluttered.

“Of course, we didn’t leave you!” said Mama. “We would never leave you.”

“Never, ever?” Mama’s words were comforting, but Ruha wanted to be sure.

“Never, ever,” said Mama.

“Promise?”

“Promise.” Mama stroked Ruha’s forehead again. “Sleep now. You’re safe at home, and I’m right here.”

Ruha drifted off to sleep with her mother’s words still echoing in her head.

* * *

After a couple of days, Ruha was feeling better, and Mama said she could get out of bed. Life became normal again, although she still sometimes had nightmares about her fall. She, Niqu, and Rangu played outside when their chores were finished, just as they always had. But before long, Ruha realized that something had happened to her while she was in the well.

A few weeks after Ruha’s fall, their neighbor, Nula, was brought to bed with her first child. Mama and the other women of the _ro_ , the cave complex, went to Nula’s cave to tend to her. Qano, Nula’s husband, lingered in the passageway outside, anxious and trembling, cringing as his wife’s screams and moans echoed off the walls, and eager for any messages the women chose to give him.

Ruha was on her way to her family’s cave when she heard Nula’s screams. She shuddered and covered her ears. She was about to turn around and go back the way she came when she saw Qano huddled against the rough wall, sobbing into his cupped hands.

“What’s wrong, Qano?” she asked, as she trotted up to him, uncovering her ears

“Nula...the baby…she’s having a hard time…if she dies, I’ll…” Qano choked out.

“Nula won’t die,” Ruha said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “She’ll live, and the baby will live too. Don’t cry. Nula will live.” She repeated these words and stroked the man’s shoulder over and over. Soon, Qano’s sobs quieted, and he sat still, breathing deeply. Ruha stopped talking but kept her hand on his shoulder.

Suddenly, the screaming reached a higher pitch. Qano and Ruha both jumped, and Ruha covered her ears again. But the screaming trailed off into moaning and whimpering, and there was a new sound: a baby crying. Ruha took her hands off her ears. Qano sat up straight, trembling, with his eyes wide.

A smiling midwife stepped out into the passage. “You have a son,” she told Qano. “Nula and the baby are well.”

“I told you!” Ruha said, clapping her hands. Qano didn’t listen; he rushed into the cave. But Ruha didn’t mind; she had known that Nula and her baby would be all right.

Soon Ruha began to know other things, including the next day’s weather, or whether hunting parties would bring back game, or whether the sick would live or die. People in the _ro_ began coming to the family’s cave to hear Ruha’s predictions. Sometimes, when the crowds stayed past Ruha’s bedtime, Mama and Papa had to send them away.

It made Ruha feel important and grown-up to tell the future. Niqu and Rangu were jealous of her, even though she was the youngest. But Mama and Papa never seemed happy about what she could do; they seemed worried. Ruha had no idea why, until the beginning of summer. She heard them talking after she was in bed, through the cave wall.

“That’s it, then?” Ruha heard her mother say. “We send Ruha away, just like that?”

Ruha’s blood ran cold. _Send me away?_

“What else can we do?” Papa sounded tired.

“But she’s too young! Why can’t we apprentice her when she’s ten, like everyone else?”

_Apprentice me? To who?_

“Her—talent—is developing too fast,” said Papa. “I fear what will happen if we wait.”

“And what if Ingi doesn’t feel the same?” Mama asked. “What if she refuses to teach her?”

“Ingi won’t refuse,” Papa said. “There hasn’t been another magic-user in Aina Ro for years.”

Ruha felt goosebumps on her arms. Ingi was the _ro_ ’s witch. Ruha knew all about her, although she’d never seen her. Ingi was not only the leader of the _ro_ , but the woman whom people visited when they wanted cures for sickness, or charms to find spouses, or spells to make crops grow and birds lay eggs. There was nothing she couldn’t do, people said. And Ruha was to be apprenticed to her. _Will I be a witch someday, too?_ she wondered. _Will I lead the ro?_ The thought made her heart beat faster, though she wasn’t sure whether it was from excitement or fear.

It took a long time for her to fall asleep, and when she finally did, Ruha dreamed that Ingi was teaching her to turn her brothers into duckbills, and they breathed fire and ate her father’s ears.

Hours later, when Mama woke her up, the thought of being Ingi’s apprentice was still running through her head. At breakfast, when Mama and Papa told her, her brothers, and Papa’s two other wives what they’d decided, she couldn’t act surprised, though everyone else was.

“ _Ingi_ is going to teach you?” Rangu said in disbelief. “You get to learn _magic_?” At Ruha’s nod, he whistled. “Some people have all the luck.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to spend all my time with Ingi,” said Niqu. “She’s an ugly old bat and— _ow!_ ” Laili, Niqu’s mother, had tweaked his ear.

Laili turned to Ruha. “We’re all happy for you,” she said with a smile.

“Thank you,” Ruha said. The excitement and anxiety were making her stomach queasy; she couldn’t say more.

“You haven’t even touched your food,” Mama said. “Finish your breakfast; it won’t do you any good to go to Ingi on an empty stomach.”

Ruha’s hand trembled as she raised a piece of potato bread to her mouth. She wasn’t at all hungry, but she managed to choke down the slice of bread and the rest of her food. The nervous feeling in her stomach didn’t go away. It worsened after breakfast was finished. By the time Mama took her hand and she, Ruha, and Papa started walking to Ingi’s cave, Ruha wondered if she was going to be sick.

Ingi’s cave was on the other side of the _ro_ , half a league away; it was a half-hour walk. All the way there, Ruha felt herself going hot and then cold, while the twisting feeling in her stomach was almost painful. She tried to look into the future, to see whether Ingi would like her, whether she would eventually be a witch, but she couldn’t tell. Was she losing her ability? She felt weak in the knees at the thought.

The half-hour walk seemed to take a full hour, but they finally arrived at the opening to Ingi’s cave. Papa whistled loudly, to let Ingi know there were visitors. After a minute or two, the oldest-looking woman Ruha had ever seen appeared at the cave entrance. Ingi’s light-brown face was wrinkled as a winter yam, and her head was nearly bald, with a few limp strands of white hair. Her tunic and leggings, made of fine green linen, hung loosely on her skinny body. She stood with the aid of a walking stick. Yet her eyes looked as bright and keen as those of a younger woman.

“What do you want?” Ingi asked, frowning at Ruha and her parents. Her voice was thin and sharp.

“Our daughter can see the future,” Papa said, fidgeting with his hands.

“And what’s that to me?” Ingi demanded.

Papa’s mouth hung open; he seemed unable to speak. Mama said, “We were hoping you would take her as an apprentice…if that’s all right with you.” She looked at the floor and shifted from one foot to another.

Ingi’s frown deepened. She turned her gaze fully to Ruha, who felt her face heat up.

“How old are you, child?” Ingi asked.

“S-seven,” Ruha stammered, her face growing even hotter.

“Too young,” said Ingi.

“But she—” Papa began, but Ingi looked at him and held up a wrinkled hand, and he fell silent.

The witch turned back to Ruha. “So, you can see the future, can you?” Ruha couldn’t speak; she only nodded. “Well, let me hear it from your own lips. My son is out hunting leapers. Tell me: will he bring me some of the game?”

Ruha swallowed; she knew the answer to this question. She just had to speak. “Yes,” she whispered, then gulped and spoke louder. “Yes. He’ll bring you a thigh and part of the tail.”

“Hmph.” Ingi stared at Ruha for a long time; Ruha stared at the floor. “Well, by Langa, we’ll see if you’re right. If you are, I’ll send a messenger for you tomorrow, at breakfast time.” She turned away from Ruha and her parents and waved a hand. “Go home, now.” She disappeared farther into the cave.

For a moment, the family stood still. Then they slowly walked back to their cave.

Ingi was true to her word. A messenger arrived at breakfast time, saying that Ruha’s prediction had come true, and that Ingi had decided to take her as an apprentice. There were exclamations of relief, excitement, and envy from almost everyone sitting around the fire, but Ruha remained silent. The nausea she was feeling the day before had returned. It lasted while Mama packed Ruha’s few belongings in a sack—a tunic and a pair of leggings, a seal-fur coat, another pair of stockings, and a comb—and while she and Mama and Papa walked back to Ingi’s cave. It grew even worse when Mama hugged Ruha good-bye at the entrance to Ingi’s cave.

“I don’t want to be left here,” she whispered into her mother’s neck. “Let me come home with you.”

Mama squeezed her tighter. “Hush. This is a great opportunity to learn magic. And you can come home whenever Ingi allows it.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Mama patted Ruha’s shoulder and let her go. “Good-bye, Ruha. We’ll see you soon.”

Papa patted Ruha’s head. “Good-bye, Ruha. Be a good girl.”

Papa and Mama left Ruha still standing in the doorway. She took deep breaths, trying to calm down.

“Well?” Ruha heard Ingi’s voice behind her. “Aren’t you going to come in?”

Ruha took an even deeper breath, picked up the sack with her belongings in it, and followed the witch into the cave.


	3. Witch's Apprentice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: child abuse

At the beginning of summer, when the sun was high in the sky and never set, a family came to Ingi’s cave. There was a man carrying a coughing woman and three children trailing behind him. Ruha, who was standing at Ingi’s wooden work table, stopped grinding _malo_ leaves and watched as the man carrying the woman laid her down on the cave floor.

“What is it?” Ingi asked, looking up from tending the fire.

“Qila has the winter fever,” the man said in a trembling voice. “It’s getting very bad on our side of the _ro_.”

“Winter fever?” Ruha blurted out. “But it’s barely summer!”

“Hush!” Ingi snapped at her, before turning back to the man. “Never fear, Rato; I’ll cure her. It may take us a week and a half, but she should be well in the end.”

“Oh, thank you, Ingi!” The man knelt down and kissed her hand. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

“Yes, yes,” Ingi said impatiently. “Now, pick up Qila and lay her down on these furs. Then go home, unless you want to catch it too.”

Ruha said nothing while Qila was being moved to the furs, but once the man and his children were gone, she spoke up. “She’s going to die.”

Ingi looked at her sharply, and Ruha stared down at the cave floor. “You’ve predicted this?”

Ruha nodded.

“Speak up!” Ingi ordered, “and look at me!”

“Yes,” Ruha said, trembling and raising her eyes to Ingi’s face.

“Well, this prediction won’t come true.” Ingi plucked down a bunch of _tuqa_ leaves hanging from the ceiling. “I’ve treated winter fever for sixty years; Qila here has only a mild case.” She sat down, dropped two leaves into a mortar, and began to grind them with a pestle. “All it takes is _tuqa_ leaves and a few curing spells. Even _you_ could manage that much.”

Ruha felt her face flush. She hadn’t been able to manage that much before. Her potions never turned out the way they were supposed to. Half the time, she couldn’t remember Ingi’s spells, and when she did remember them, they never worked.

_If I’m so bad at magic, why do you keep me here? Why don’t you send me home?_ Ruha knew better than to ask this question out loud.

Over the next few days, Qila did seem to improve, thanks to the _tuqa_ leaves and the spells. Although she was still feverish, her cough stopped and her breathing grew quieter. Yet Ruha’s vision didn’t change. _She’s still going to die. I know she is._

Four days after Qila had been brought in, a young boy came into the cave and told Ingi that his entire family was down with winter fever.

“Winter fever in summer,” grumbled Ingi. She began to pack _tuqa_ leaves, as well as her mortar and pestle, in a bundle. “Looks like this winter will be a hard one.” She suddenly turned her head to glare at Ruha. “Will it be a hard winter?”

Growing nervous under the stares of Ingi and the boy, Ruha tried to think. But she couldn’t see what kind of winter it would be. “I don’t know,” she admitted.

Ingi growled and spat on the floor. “By Rauqo, child, you’re useless. Can’t predict anything useful, and when you do predict something, it turns out to be wrong.” She glanced over at Qila. Ruha felt tears pricking at her eyes and looked down to hide them. _She’s wrong. Qila is still going to die_.

Ingi picked up the bundle and her cane. “I’m going to his cave. Look after Qila while I’m gone.”

And she left. For a while, Ruha stood helplessly, watching her walk away. Then she turned back into the cave and went over to the bed of furs where Qila lay. The woman looked at Ruha with languid eyes. She coughed every now and then.

“Do you want anything?” Ruha asked.

“Water,” Qila croaked.

Ruha went to the water jar in the corner and filled the drinking gourd, which she brought over to Qila. As Qila drank thirstily, Ruha crouched down and watched her, thinking hard. Should she try to make a potion for Qila or cast a curing spell? Her previous efforts at magic had never worked, and whatever she did, it wouldn’t change her vision.

The gourd fell to the floor with a _clack_ as Qila began coughing again.

“More water?” Ruha asked. At a nod from Qila, she refilled the gourd and gave it to her. Ruha laid a hand on Qila’s forehead as she’d seen Ingi do. Her forehead was hot and dry; Qila still had a fever.

Slowly, Ruha went back to Ingi’s work table and picked up a handful of _tuqa_ leaves. She crushed them up and heated them in a pot over the fire. She added other ingredients to the potion, trying to calm her fluttering heart. _Maybe the potion will be right this time. Maybe my spells will actually work. Oh, Nasi, please let them work._

Qila coughed again, more harshly this time. Ruha gave her another gourdful of water and turned back to her potion. Ingi had told her to boil the potion for fifteen minutes.

As Ruha waited, Qila’s coughs became louder and more violent. She tossed and turned in the furs, moaning incoherently. Ruha touched her forehead again; it was hotter than before. Ruha pulled back the top layer of furs and quickly had to cover Qila again when she started shivering. Ruha filled the gourd with water, took a piece of cloth, and started bathing Qila’s forehead. _I may as well try spells while I wait_.

Ruha began to chant, “O Mother Nasi, goddess of healing, look down upon thy suffering child and heal her. Smite the Tano that has given her Naru’s sickness. Bring her strength to fight against the Tano; let her stand up and walk and speak again.” She hoped that the chant would at least calm Qila, but it didn’t. Qila still tossed and coughed and moaned. Ruha’s stomach clenched tightly in fear. She tried another spell: “Get thee gone, foul Tano, demon of ice, spreader of Naru’s sickness! Go hence and return no more!” Nothing happened. Feeling sick, Ruha tried all the spells that Ingi had taught her, to no avail.

A smell of rotten eggs filled the cave, and Ruha gasped. The potion! She ran over to the fire and peered into the pot. Instead of being clear liquid, the mixture was brown, slimy-looking glop, not even fit to feed pigs. Ruha picked up the pot with a cloth, flung the mixture onto the fire, and burst into tears. _Qila is going to die. She’s going to die and it’s all my fault._ She knelt by the pile of furs, sobbing, “Forgive me…forgive me…I couldn’t save you…” Qila’s coughs and moans drowned out the sound of Ruha’s crying.

After a short time, the coughing and moaning ceased. Qila lay still, her eyes open and fixed in a ghastly stare, and there was suddenly a foul odor in the air, mingling with the rotten-egg smell. Ingi had told Ruha that these were signs of death.

_She died, just as I knew she would. She died because of me._ Tears leaked from Ruha’s eyes, and she started trembling. Ingi would be angry with her. She already slapped Ruha whenever Ruha made a mistake; what would she do when she learned Ruha couldn’t save someone from death?

As if summoned by Ruha’s thoughts, Ingi came back into the cave, grumbling to herself. “Those people…don’t know how to keep away sickness…won’t listen…” Ingi’s words trailed off, and she looked at Qila’s dead body. She knelt beside the body, her knees creaking, and felt for a pulse. Ruha’s heart pounded wildly as she watched.

“She’s dead,” Ingi said softly, standing up. “She’s dead,” she repeated in a much sharper voice. She slowly stood up and glared at Ruha. “What did you do to her?”

Under Ingi’s furious eyes, Ruha shuddered and looked down. “I—I—”

“Speak up!” snarled Ingi. “What did you do to Qila? Did you fail yet again? Or did you kill her this time?”

“No, no!” Ruha protested in shock. “I didn’t kill her…I knew she was going to…I tried…”

“You didn’t try hard enough!” said Ingi, gripping her cane. She pushed Ruha to her hands and knees and pulled down Ruha’s leggings. The cool air on her bare backside shocked her; Ruha struggled, but Ingi’s hand pressed onto her back, holding her down.

“Ingi!” Ruha gasped. “Don’t! Please don’t! I knew she would…I couldn’t…”

“Oh, you couldn’t, eh?” Ingi said. “I’ll cure you of that.”

The cane cracked against Ruha’s bare flesh, and she screamed. She struggled against Ingi’s hand, trying to rise or crawl away from the cane. But the blows kept coming, like lines of fire on her skin. Tears streamed from her eyes and fell onto the floor; she couldn’t stop shrieking; there was nothing but burning pain.

And suddenly, it stopped. Ingi’s hand was no longer on her back, and she collapsed onto the floor, sobbing.

“Get up,” said Ingi, leaning on the cane. “And stop crying.” She left the room.

Ruha lay on the floor. After a long time, she calmed down, though occasionally, a sob would force its way out of her throat. Her backside was on fire; even the slightest movement was agony. After a while, she managed to pull up her leggings, wincing as the cloth rubbed against her burning flesh. She tried to stand up, but her legs were weak and couldn’t support her. She sank back onto the floor, letting out a cry of pain as she sat down on her bottom. Slowly, carefully, she raised herself to her knees, placed her hands onto the floor, and began to crawl out of Ingi’s cave.

The rough floor of the cave passage hurt her knees and hands, but Ruha went on crawling in the direction of her family’s cave, kept crawling until the pain in her hands and knees became unbearable. She stopped to rest, wondering how she was going to make it back home.

She heard footsteps and shrank back against the wall. But it was only their neighbor Qano. He looked at her and stopped. “Name of the gods, Ruha! I didn’t expect to see you. Is something wrong?”

“Ingi—beat—” was all Ruha managed to say, before she started crying again.

Qano crouched down and patted her shoulder. “It’s all right. Shall I take you back to Ingi’s cave?”

“No, no!” Ruha said, shrinking away from him. “I want to go home!”

“All right.” Qano offered her his hand. “Here, let me help you up.”

“Ingi beat me…I can’t walk,” sobbed Ruha.

Qano stood still for a minute, then picked Ruha up and carried her back to her family’s cave.

Mama, who was sitting on a mat spinning, stood up when Qano carried Ruha in. “Nasi preserve us! What happened?”

Ruha sniffled. “I couldn’t save Qila…and Ingi got mad…she beat me…I can’t walk…”

Mama held out her arms and Qano handed Ruha to her. Ruha felt safe in her mother’s arms; she buried her face in Mama’s neck. Mama stroked her back and said, “Thank you for bringing her home, Qano.”

“It was no problem,” Qano said. Ruha heard his footsteps; he must have been leaving. She snuggled closer to her mother, who carried her into the sleeping room and laid her down on the furs.

Her mother sat down beside her. “What happened?”

Ruha told her the whole story. During her recital, Mama looked distressed, and when Ruha described how Ingi had beaten her, she saw that Mama was glaring and her fists were clenched.

“Are you mad at me?” Ruha asked, her voice trembling.

“No,” Mama answered. “I’m mad at Ingi. You tried to save Qila; it wasn’t your fault that she died.”

“But I couldn’t make a potion or make the spells work. And I saw she was going to die.”

“It still wasn’t your fault,” Mama insisted. “Has this happened before? Have you had trouble with potions or spells before?”

Ruha nodded. “I can’t do magic. I try and try, but nothing works. Ingi gets mad at me when I can’t do it.”

Mama sighed and stroked Ruha’s cheek. “I see. It was a mistake to send you to Ingi’s. No doubt Papa will agree.”

“Will he be mad at me?”

“Not when I tell him what happened.” Mama leaned over and kissed Ruha’s forehead. “Just lie there quietly; I’ll make you a poultice.”

Feeling weaker than ever, the stripes on her backside still painful, Ruha didn’t bother answering. She thought about her father and what he would say, about Qila’s family and how they would react, and about Ingi. She trembled at the thought.

But her mother didn’t blame her. Mama loved her no matter what she did wrong. Ruha breathed more deeply, feeling calmer and comforted. As long as Mama loved her, everything would be all right.


	4. Fei Shan

Fei Shan finished cutting the cast from the boy’s arm. “There you are, Hunca. Your arm has healed.”

Hunca fidgeted and laughed shyly. His mother, Kakilla, took his hand. “Thank you, Master Fei.”

“You’re welcome,” Shan said, as Hunca and Kakilla left his little, two-roomed stone house. He gave his scissors and spreader to his apprentice, Baché, feeling a sense of satisfaction at another successful medical procedure. There were no more appointments today; he decided to go to the market and buy food for his supper.

Outside the hut, the air was hot and sticky. Sweat dripped onto Shan’s forehead; he wiped it away with his arm. The village of Illpa rested on the sand dunes in full sight of the Lotano Ocean; Shan could see the waves crashing onto the beach and Illpa’s reed boats resting on the sand. Feathery palm trees lined the shore, and the dense jungle crept up on the village’s doorstep. Palms, trumpetwood trees, tall ferns, and lobster claws grew thick and wild; the villagers often had to cut them back. Off in the distance, Shan could see the tangled trees of the mangrove swamp.

Shan loved this land and this village, and he loved his neighbors. As he walked down the narrow, sandy street between the stone cottages, the people greeted him in friendly voices, and he stopped frequently to chat with them. The people of Illpa, the Cocha, had reddish-brown skin and long black hair. Their clothes, tunics and loincloths for the men and long dresses for the women, were colorful: they displayed dazzling patterns of blue and red, yellow and green, black and white. Both men and women wore copper earrings, necklaces, and bracelets. Every person with whom Shan talked was strong and healthy, thanks to him; he felt his heart swell with pride whenever he looked at them.

When Shan and the rest of the crew of the _Daibin_ first landed on the coast of the Cocha Empire ten years ago, the people were being ravaged by deadly diseases brought by the Andosans; measles, mumps, chickenpox, and especially smallpox were killing off the Cocha in their thousands. Shan and his two apprentices had introduced variolation and had saved the lives of many Cocha. Later, thanks to his Cocha lover and the rest of the army, the Andosans had been driven from much of the Cocha Empire. Although the empire had split up into separate kingdoms, the Cocha population was starting to recover.

After short conversations with the villagers, Shan reached the market. It was a hub of activity. The fruit and vegetable sellers sat on the ground near their wares, which were stacked neatly onto blankets. The fishmongers displayed freshly-caught, gleaming fish, and the butchers cut up pieces of bloody meat for their customers. The fabric sellers displayed colorful cotton cloth as well as fabric made from llama and alpaca wool. Ayra, the potter, had an array of beautifully-painted bowls, Chuno, the honey gatherer, offered children pieces of dripping honeycomb, and Lucos, the Andosan tinker, sat with a small table in front of him, mending tools of bronze or iron. Pigs sniffed and snorted, pawing the sand, chickens and ducks strutted among the crowds, pecking at the ground, and llamas and alpacas waited patiently for their owners to take them home.

Shan joined the crowds, his mouth watering as he looked at the displays of food. He would buy a pork shoulder and stew it with chili peppers. He would also buy potatoes, and tomatoes, and a pineapple.

“Master Fei!” called a trembling, creaky voice. Shan turned around to see Casi, the oldest inhabitant of the village, leaning on his cane. Casi was completely bald, and his red and yellow tunic was too large for him. His hand trembled on the cane.

“Hello, Casi,” Shan said cheerfully. “How are you? Are you feeling all right?”

“Oh, I’m feeling well; I’m always well,” Casi said. “I just wanted to ask if you’ve heard from _Hunu_ Chillari lately. I want to know when she’ll return.”

Shan suppressed a sigh. “I haven’t heard from her. And I don’t know if she’ll return: she’s been living on Ritallpi for five years,” he said, for what felt like the hundredth time. Chillari, his lover, had traveled to the strange continent at the South Pole, just after the Cochas’ victory over the Andosans.

Casi snorted. “Ritallpi? What’s on Ritallpi that we don’t have here? There’s nothing but ice and forests and savages.”

“There’s the Academy of Sorcery,” Shan explained patiently. “She’s a teacher there.”

“Pah! Wasting time teaching savages magic?” Casi thumped his stick on the ground. “She belongs here, with her own people.”

_She does belong here_ , Shan thought. He and Chillari had bonded over their hatred for the Andosan invaders. They both had worked to free the Cocha from their oppressors: she had killed many Andosans, while he had saved many Cocha. He didn’t tell Casi this; he just said, “If we can find a wizard to contact her, perhaps she’ll talk to us.”

“A wizard,” grumbled Casi. “What’s wrong with using messenger pigeons?”

“It’s too far away,” Shan said. He had also explained this many times to Casi. “The only way we can reach her is with magic. And what’s wrong with using a wizard? You want Chillari to come back, and she’s a wizard.”

“That’s different,” Casi said firmly. “ _Hunu_ Chillari saved us all; she’s the Hero of Vichalli. Who knows what a strange wizard might do?”

Shan shook his head and ran a hand through his long black hair. Casi was giving him a headache. “Well, I’ll see what I can do. I could go to Allara; they probably have a wizard there.”

“Fine,” sighed Casi. “If only _Hunu_ Chillari would come back on her own.” He hobbled over to a guava seller and started haggling. Shan walked over to a butcher’s table, but his appetite was gone. Chillari would never return; she had made that clear the night before she sailed, when he had argued with her. He wished now that he had followed her to Ritallpi. Immediately, he felt a pang of guilt: how could he leave his patients, his people, to chase after a former lover? _Baché knows enough to take over for me_. Shan crushed the thought ruthlessly; he was not going to abandon Illpa.

* * *

When evening descended, it brought cooling breezes. The weather was so pleasant that Shan decided to sit and drink maize beer with his friend Ichama and Ichama’s son, Puna. All three men took off their llama-hide sandals and sat cross-legged and barefoot on black and white mats outside Ichama’s house. Shan could hear the waves coming in; it was high tide. Cicadas and crickets shrilled loudly. Somewhere in the jungle, an owl hooted.

Ichama’s wife, Ozco, came out with a red clay jug of beer. “There’s a ship out at sea now,” she said, as she filled everyone’s clay cups.

“A ship?” Puna got to his feet and looked out at the ocean. “I see it! It’s an Andosan ship.”

“More Andosans,” grumbled Ichama. “I thought we’d finally gotten rid of them.”

Shan stood up and looked. Yes, he could see that it was a tall ship, of the kind used by the Andosans. But it was too far away to see any details. He put on his sandals, went to his house, and found his telescope before coming back to Ichama’s house. He looked through the telescope and saw that the ship indeed looked like an Andosan ship, with two masts and white square sails. But the banner that the ship was flying didn’t have the Andosan coat of arms on it. It displayed a gold lightning bolt on a field of blue. He had never seen it before.

“That’s not an Andosan ship. It’s flying a different banner,” he said uneasily.

“Let me look,” said Puna, taking the telescope from him and holding it to his eye. “I see it. I wonder where it’s from.”

“I wonder whether they’re friend or foe,” said Ichama, looking nervous.

“Now there’s a boat full of people!” Puma said. “They’re rowing for the shore. They’re white, but they look different from the Andosans. They have white or yellow hair, and they don’t have beards. And they’re wearing strange blue clothes.”

Shan took the telescope back from Puna. He looked through it and saw that Puna was right. Two of the men had white hair, while the other men and women had hair that ranged from yellow to light brown. Every person in the boat was wearing a dark blue coat, and the two white-haired men had gold-colored buttons on their coats. It must be a uniform of some kind.

Who were these people? Where had they come from? He watched as the strangers beached their boat and stepped onto the sand. They were carrying rifles and pistols; Shan’s feeling of unease grew. He saw five children from the village slowly making their way onto the beach; judging from how slowly they moved, they were curious about the strangers but cautious in approaching them. At last, the children reached the shore as the strangers were stepping out of the boat. Then the sailors grabbed the children.

“No!” Shan said, dropping the telescope. Puna snatched it up, looked through it, and gasped.

“We’ve got to save them!” Puna said. He, Ichama, Ozco, and Shan ran down to the beach. Now that they were close, Shan could see that the strangers were tearing the clothes off the struggling, screaming children. A man in a black robe stepped out of the boat and began to chant. Five sailors waded into the ocean, pushed the children under the water, and held them there. The children struggled; their arms and legs were flailing, splashing water into the air, but the strangers didn’t let go.

“They’re drowning them!” Puna said frantically. “They’re drowning the children!”

“Stop!” cried Ozco, running towards the strangers. Immediately, two white-haired men raised their pistols and fired. There was a loud _crack_ , and Ozco dropped like a stone.

“No!” Ichama cried. He knelt down next to his wife, whose blood was running from her head and staining the sand, and began to sob. Shan examined Ozco, even though he knew it was no use.

Now villagers armed with Andosan muskets, including Pacha, the village chief, were running down to the beach. They knelt in the sand and began firing at the invaders. Two of the invaders fell; at that moment, the strangers all drew their guns and started shooting. Gunshots crackled in the breezy night air, and smoke soon obscured the battle. Shan saw a man fall, and he crawled over to where he thought the man landed. He was afraid to stand up: he imagined flying bullets whistling over his head. At last, he found the victim, Ayra the potter, lying bleeding from a wound in his arm. Shan tore a strip of cloth from his tunic and bound the arm as best as he could. If the battle ended, he could put a real bandage on the wound.

Some of the armed villagers were pushing reed boats into the water. They paddled them over to the sailors drowning the children and shot the foreigners. They pulled the unconscious children into the boats and began to paddle back. Two men in different boats were shot; the survivors picked up their paddles and continued to shore.

“We’ve got them all!” shouted Pacha. “And the ship is leaving!”

Shan dared to rise up on his knees. The smoke from the gun fight was clearing, and he could see it was true. Blue-coated corpses lay stretched out on the sand or were floating in the water. The ship with the lightning banner was moving away from the shore.

Cheers rose up from the armed villagers. Shan slowly rose to his feet and scanned the beach. Eight villagers were lying bleeding on the sand. Shan hurried to his hut and found bandages, water, and forceps. He knew that the cheers would be replaced with weeping and lamentations before long.

* * *

Three of the five children had been drowned before they were rescued. Only two of the villagers who had been shot were still alive: Lucos, the Andosan tinker, and Ayra. Shan tended their wounds, tears running down his cheeks. The other villagers were preparing the dead for burial: dressing them in their best clothes and finding jewelry and pottery to bury with them.

Shan was bandaging Lucos’ wounded leg when Pacha came over and knelt beside him. “Will he live?” Pacha asked.

“He should,” Shan said, wiping the tears on his face with his arm.

"Did you see where these people were from?” Pacha asked “Were they from a country near Zenghu?"

Shan shook his head. "I have no idea. They were white, so perhaps they were from a country near Andosa. Their banner had a lightning bolt on it."

A low moan came from from Lucos. Shan saw that Lucos' lips were moving, and croaking sounds came out of his mouth. Shan moved closer in order to hear him.

"Yar-land," Lucos croaked. "Yar-land."

"What's Yar-land?" Shan asked, but Lucos fell silent.

"Yar-land," Pacha said. "Is that where those white men came from?"

"No idea.” There was silence for a while. Eventually, Pacha got up and left. Shan called for help to move Ayra and Lucos back to their huts on the dunes. He kept his face smooth and his voice bland, but his mind was in turmoil.

Who were these people? Where was Yarland, if that was the place they were from? Why had they come? Would they come back? Only the last question had an answer: Shan guessed that the raiders would return, probably with more people and ships.

Earlier, he had felt guilty at the thought of leaving Illpa, but now other feelings had emerged. With new enemies attacking the Cocha, Chillari would be more welcome than ever. If the foreigners encountered a Fleshblaster, they would flee as the Andosans did nine or ten years ago.

The more Shan thought about it, the greater his determination grew. He would travel to Vichalli, the former capital of the Cocha Empire, the city where he had first used variolation, and the place where he had met Chillari. Then he would find a wizard who could contact Chillari on Ritallpi.

For five years, he had been waiting in vain for Chillari to contact him. For five years, his pride and his work had prevented him from trying to talk to her. Now he would get in touch with her, whatever it took.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive criticism is welcome.


End file.
